Second Wind Publishing discussion

I never paid much attention to the soundtrack of my life until a few months after my life mate’s death when I realized all the things I wasn’t hearing.

Every morning for decades, I woke to the motorized whine of his blender as he made a protein drink, the shushing of running water as he filtered the drinking water for the day, the clink of weights as he did his exercises.

We were quiet people, but occasionally I’d hear the soft hum of his music or tinny voices from the television in the other room. In the summer I could hear the rustle of the hose in the weeds as he watered the bushes and trees outside my window, and in the winter I could hear the stamp of his boots when he came in from clearing off snow. And always when we were together, there was the lovely sound of his voice as we talked and talked and talked -- we talked of anything and everything until he got so sick he couldn’t carry the thread of a conversation any more. At the end, there were the scary night sounds of his falling when he struggled to get out of bed to escape the pain, and the even scarier sounds of his yelps when he woke and couldn’t remember who he was or where he was.

Just from those sounds, you get an idea of our life together and how it ended. What is the soundtrack of your life? And more important, since this is a group for discussing reading and writing, what are the soundtracks of your characters’ lives or the characters in the book you are currently reading? What do those sounds mean to the characters, and how does the soundtrack change during the course of the book to reflect the changes in their circumstances.

Let's talk.

The soundtrack of A Spark of Heavenly Fire begins with normal city noises but with a cacophany of sirens. This noise fades into silence as the city is brought to a standtill by the epidimic. The silence becomes punctuated by the sound of gunfire, army tanks, helicopters, and fighter planes. And as the military sounds fade, the sound of voices and traffic slowly make their presence known.

The soundtrack of Light Bringer is much lighter in tone, though the story itself is almost as dark as A Spark of Heavenly Fire. (Odd that I use such light-sounding titles for both these books of dastardly deeds by unfeeling governments and corporations.)

When my two main characters meet, they make beautiful music together, (and sometimes discordant music if their moods don't match). Others can hear these eerie sounds, so they learn to keep their distance when they are around others. They also hear sounds no one else does, such as flowers beckoning for them to come play or grasses whispering in the wind.

The soundtrack of my life starts with thumping of feet pounding against the walls each morning when my disabled son wakes up. Then it's pandemonium as objects are thrown and broken, voices rise and fall, and sobbing ensues.

Angela wrote: "The soundtrack of my life starts with thumping of feet pounding against the walls each morning when my disabled son wakes up. Then it's pandemonium as objects are thrown and broken, voices rise an..."

Sounds heartbreaking.

I'll speak first to the soundtrack of our lives, since my book has not evolved very much yet. We live in a rural area in the north of British Columbia surrounded by forest, lakes and rivers. My husband since moving here has become almost totally deaf, and I worry about animals creeping up on him without his knowledge. I also cry for the fact that he has never heard the many birds here, including the distinct 5 different owl hoots I hear in the night. He misses so much. The crackling fire in winter, the Christmas concert at the school...He can't really hear when his grandchildren are talking and they are all still quite young. The oldest is turning 10 in December, the youngest will be 4 this month. The other two are 6 and 8, so he's missing one of the most interesting times in their lives. I, on the other hand, have excellent hearing, can hear the waterfall on the mountain from our house, hear the slightest breeze, definitely hear the TV when my husband is watching it downstairs at one end of the house and I'm upstairs at the other end. I yell until my head aches trying to communicate. This is not what I expected when we retired and moved up here. On the other hand (that's just two hands I've used so far, isn't it?) I suffer from anosmia, the inability to smell anything, and that includes smoke, noxious fumes, flowers, and when I had babies, I was often ignorant of the fact their diapers needed changing (so embarrassing). My book is also located in a rural wooded area, so I would say that my soundtrack for the setting would be similar to what I am hearing. Later the soundtrack will change as the hook begins to grab. Think old house, paranoia. I will even include a character suffering Anosmia as a part of discussion, the sound of the ferry crossing the lake, and the many small town characters and sounds.

Pat Bertram wrote: "The soundtrack of Light Bringer is much lighter in tone, though the story itself is almost as dark as A Spark of Heavenly Fire. (Odd that I use such light-sounding titles for both these books of da..."

Sounds wonderful. I recall mentioning something about the sound of white noise and how you can hear voices in that and babbling brooks, etc. She was a psychiatric nurse and panicked, thinking I was hearing voices in my head! Don't most people hear what could sound like voices or whispers in white noise and water? I don't claim to hear actual conversation on words! Even silence has a sound of its own (or Simon and Garfunkle would never have had the hit record!)

I can relate to that Betty. I hear voices but not words. The overall sound in my head is that of a distant male voice choir singing. I can't influence the tune, or change the volume,and it's never a tune I recognise. The deeper the silence around me, the more distinctly I hear the choir. It's like listening to your next door neighbour's radio playing low volume out in their garden somewhere. At one time it used to worry me, but now, when it happens, I just enjoy the sound.

The soundtrack of my life usually depends on whatever song I heard last. Tunes get stuck in my brain. Sometimes a spoken phrase will have me remembering a song from decades ago. Then I hum and sing it until another melody worms its way into my thoughts.

I'm usually humming and singing without an iPod--my own soundtrack.

Interesting--I suspect my soundtrack is frequently silence as I quickly get lost in other people's lives when I read or write. Son has to throw things at me to bring me back.

I find myself thinking of my youngest son who had hearing problems when he was small. One day he told me he hadn't realized before that birds made noise. His life must have had a curious soundtrack.

Carole wrote: "I can relate to that Betty. I hear voices but not words. The overall sound in my head is that of a distant male voice choir singing. I can't influence the tune, or change the volume,and it's never ..."

How fascinating! That would be so much more interesting than the constant conversations in my head. (I'm always arguing with someone for some silly reason.) Like Penelope, I used to hear echoes of the last song I heard, but I stopped listening to music, so that solved that problem! Now I'm trying to be aware of the pleasant sounds outside of my head -- leaves, like rain, falling on the roof, the crunch of my shoes on the gravel paths where I walk, the whoosh of raven wings as they pass overhead.

Sheila wrote: "One day he told me he hadn't realized before that birds made noise. His life must have had a curious soundtrack.

Must have been a thrill for him when he first heard the birds. I got glasses when I was very young, and I still remember how astonished I was that there were street signs. I always wondered how people knew what street we were on since I hadn't a clue.

Pat, I can relate to the glasses scenario as well. I was 9 years old when our eyes were checked at school and I was found to be unable to see the big E! I didn't know there was texture to sidewalks or grass, and when we went for a drive I thought the houses on a hill starting on the next block was a row of mountains! Unfortunately, they put me into bifocals which eliminated me from sports because the changes between reading and distance in the glasses would confuse me when trying to catch or hit a ball, etc. At that age, kids just said I was afraid of the ball.

Betty wrote: "At that age, kids just said I was afraid of the ball.

I got that, too, about being afraid, but my eyes couldn't adjust fast enough to see what the ball was doing. I could read books, though, so that's what I did. They were my lifesaver. Still are.

Me too.